You know that Mom?
The one who children flock to like the Pied Piper?
Who is both amazingly loving, raising great kids, but also herding the kid masses into one big geese gaggle?
The one whose house kids always wanted to sleep over at, not because it was the biggest, or the nicest, had the best games or best movies, but it was the warmest. The best places to be?
The one who balances working, parenting 150 kids at school, and then her three at home without missing a beat?
The one who turns your car in dizzy circles at culdesacs?
And has a giant bell that she rings when it is time to come home, because we all ran barefooted around without watches when we were young.
The Mom who invented dirt cake way before Pinterest did.
And who made leftover night more fantastic by calling it a smorgasbord?
And then you get to know that Mom as an adult?
You see where you get your humor from.
She's wicked funny.
And where you get your heart from.
She shows up. For everyone. In big and little ways.
And where you get your competitive nature from?
Because she will push anything with two or four legs out of the way to get that first snuggle of a grandbaby.
That Mom who gets on Facebook and awkwardly tags you and comments, and totally learns how to Facebook chat so she can develop nighttime love rituals with your kids... her grands.
Who has a Mary Poppins bag of treasures, all bought at the secondhand store, and all magical.
And you know, that unequivocally, you have the best Mom in the world.
There's no debate.
And that Mom is having big bad scary health things. A brain tumor.
One we've known about for the approximately two weeks that I've been grumpy every time you've come across me.
It's not cancer, we hope.
It's no big deal (it is)
Surgery on Wednesday.
And she is the one reassuring you, because she knows how you deal with things. How all three of you deal with things.
That E emotes and communicates it all. And then communicates it again.
That M comes, logicalizes, and needs a few minutes away when it gets too much.
And that me... that I am just a giant turtle with my head and legs tucked in until Wednesday evening when someone calls and tells me everything is ok.
So wake me on Thursday.
When everything is ok.
Because it will be.
Because she's your Mom.
And Moms make everything ok.